Mediocre Universe

by Astronaut Club

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This album is a culmination of a year or so worth of loose ends, and small combinations. It is mostly interludes, and the "real" songs are more like interludes amidst the little inbetween bits, and that's how I've wanted to put something together for a while. Fortunately, the stylisations manage to clash just enough to invoke interest, and overall, I am quite happy with this body of work, and hope you enjoy it, too.

My favourite tracks from this are 'second half of your name', 'a tumbleweed' and 'small pine'.

A massive thank you to all those who express appreciation; I hope I can provide means for a continuance of such. <3


released November 28, 2013

tom mccone - everything



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Open Soul Surgery Dunedin, New Zealand

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Track Name: the second half of your name
the door is still ajar and there is still a lamp lit
and hue spills out in a straight line
where I follow markings on the
sides of highways to forget
how I won't forget the impression
you leave on the sidewalk through
season after passage of next to
brightlit stripmalls somewhere
with snowcapped mountains
and lakes and lakes and lakes away know
I'll probably miss you

when streetlights burn down
when stoplights wear out
I'll be out on the ocean
you'll find me in
hillsides on
indian summer mornings
or in
rain flecks on train windows
winding trails around
provinces I'll
never figure out how to pronounce
you won't miss me
Track Name: ugly song (misery)
in dreams
strangers make faces
at one another
in black and white
Track Name: and me, oh
spent like, in scene,
the back of my head,
caught in the holocene,

and divided only
by lineage in history,
do the same patterns repeat?
or aren't we all changing?

'cause slowly it's all coming down
to these meaningful movements,
meaning nothing at all,
nothing at all,

so count the seconds,
count the minutes,
count 'em out,
'cause there's no reason,
there's nothing at all,

no, no,
no, no,

no, no,
no, no
reason at all.
Track Name: small pine
little one,
go to sleep,
little one,
all of the hours are slipping away

you were an island,
you were at least fourty-three percent
of all the dinosaurs,
and the plants

there's so much more left to do,
if you plan on waking up

so if you come back in-side,
so if you walk back through the door,
trace footsteps along the edge of the corridor,
you'll find yourself back in bed,
you'll find yourself among the clouds,
you'll find yourself so far from here,
you'll find yourself under the water,
you'll find yourself nothing at all

so what do you need to
get away from?
'cause you're missin'
all the words.
and inside,
or outside,
it's all the same,
it's all the same.